Page 24 of King of Pride and Talons

Another song began to chime, one that was far more lively and invigorating than the last two. He found Breya standing off to the side of the dance floor, her hands coiled together.

“My sweet Breya,” he said, his voice crooning.

He didn't like how tense she was, so he offered his hand, attempting to soften his countenance. She took it, but she didn’t seem enthused.

“I want to tell you something," he muttered, pulling her back onto the dance floor. "Will you hear it?"

She said nothing back as they settled again in each other's arms, but that time they were tangled together like wild vines.

“What’s wrong?" she implored with her hands tucked under his elbows.

The king shook his head adamantly, swathing his arms around her head to rest on her shoulders. He was drinking in how tiny she was in comparison to him. Her arms weren't nearly long enough to swaddle around his tree-trunk waist.

“Nothing is wrong," he said. “I wanted to tell you something, though."

Breya was like a dog with a bone. She watched him as if his skull were made of glass.

“Are you going to tell me what is bothering you?"

The king laughed uproariously. It was slightly forced.

“I swear, nothing is wrong!” he said, yelling over the music. “I wanted to tell you that I am indeed regretting planning this ball."

Her scowl was mystifying. But the way she had her hands stroking up and down his waist, eventually scaling his elbows and forearms, told him a whole other story.

“Is this you opening up?” she challenged him.

He crawled his hands up her back and began to cascade them downward at a sensual pace. At the same time, Thorne leaned in close to the shell of her ear, watching her plum lips part as he growled.

“I wanted to tell you that I regret it because all I really want to do is take you back to my room and make you scream my name again."

Thorne heard her breath catch in her throat, then her hips thrust absentmindedly into him. She turned her face away from him, bashful.

The king was awash with her rich fragrance and risked a light kiss planted onto the nape of her neck. She responded with a mellow groan, one that was imperceptible to the rest of the ballroom attendants.

Eventually, Breya’s hands crept along to the front of his pants, teasing him by stroking along the ridges of his flat belly. She turned back, pressing her cheeks against his, and breathed a hissing, sultry purr.

“Sometimes a little delayed gratification is good for you. It'll make the reward a little more explosive."

Her hand wasn’t on his cock, but it may as well have been. He felt it twitch slightly, Breya acting as the conductor to the orchestra of his desire.

“Hmm,” he protested with a sigh back into her ear. “I'm afraid shifters aren't exactly the most patient of species. I will have to take your word for it."

Breya giggled, and all at once, Thorne was glad again. More than anything, he wanted Breya's satisfaction. It was what his lion had dreamed of since birth, and he physically wasn't able to deny it.

He brought his forehead to hers.

“But there is one request I will make,” he muttered.

“Mmm, name it."

“Kiss your king."

Breya looked surprised, but she lifted her chin to meet his mouth. He pressed against her hard, and they became raveled shadows amid the swaying music.

THIRTEEN

BREYA

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